


And I Knew You’d Catch Me Flying In The Sun

by SC182



Category: DCU, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Multi, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SC182/pseuds/SC182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a girl as told through the life and deeds of her brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : I do not own any of the characters herein. The characters of Tess Mercer, Lex Luthor and the rest of Smallville characters are the property of their creators, the CW and Warner Brothers. Any deviation (or deviant behavior) from the originals, however, is mine.
> 
>  **A/N** : I disregarded the ages of Lex and Tess provided by the Smallville Wiki. In this story, Lex is the oldest Luthor son. Instead of being born in 1980, I’m changing his birth year to 1978, the year designated as Tess’s birth year in the episode “Abandon”. Tess is a year younger than Clark, making her 13 at the time that Lex and Clark meet. Early canon events, such as Lex meeting Lucas or Pamela’s return, still happen as they did on the show. Lex marries Desiree in 2002; Helen in 2005; and Lana in 2009. The events surrounding Belle Reve, Morgan Edge and Lionel’s incarceration occur in 2004. Current canon events and allusions to DCU are contained within the story.
> 
> Excerpts are from Peter Pan and I Feel Pretty.
> 
> Title inspired by Mazzy Star's "[All Your Sisters](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HS9zDFCYZOU)".

Her lip burst under the full force of the hit. As she was pushed back by the momentum, she catalogued all the places she ached, pained, and seemed to burn. Her mouth was on fire.  
  
She took two steps beyond those from the force of the blow and allowed the heat to settle over face. Dipping her head down, chin angled towards her chest, she could see the pool of ruby and garnet settling on her wrapped fist. The trail started in her mouth across the split seam of her lip and down her chin like a horrific waterfall.  
  
The moment her eyes locked with her opponent, he charged at her. Having looked into her eyes was courtesy enough; she hadn’t needed it though. In the real world, the place beyond these walls, no one would ever wait to see if the eyes of their potential victims were staring back at them with focused determination.  
  
The next jab to the face opened a wider river of blood to course down her face. At this rate, the lower half of her face would look like a stomped pomegranate. She shook off the blow and backed away again. Her Master watched her and disappointment sang from his silent position in the corner like a ringing gong.  
  
He stroked the finely cropped hair along his mouth that spilled over his chin and beyond. “You are not focusing,” he said bluntly. “You are retreating with no reason to retreat.”  
  
Her Master was not one to placate any of his students, most certainly not her. He signaled for her opponent to engage her in a swift series of maneuvers. “Failure is only an option, if you choose to allow it.”  
  
He came back at her with fist travelling almost as fast as she could duck. He alternated taking shots at her face and body, after which he incorporated a couple of leg swipes and kicks that nearly stole her balance.  
  
She could do this. She had survived so much already. This was why her Master doted on her, even if his offering would leave much to be desired to an outsider; each lesson pushed her hard and gave her the skills necessary to remember that she was a survivor. And that mission in her life was far from complete.  
  
Hearing the blade before she saw it, she leapt away, bending her body into tight arcs as she dodged his striking blows.  
  
As her master began to speak, all that she had learned seemed to blossom inside. The tiny fissure, an awareness of self, spread throughout like the small crack which separated the continents, and she felt at peace.  
  
“Weakness is not the absence of physical strength,” her Master said, as she wrapped her hands around his wrist and squeezed until the knife fell to the floor.  
  
“—But the capacity to not be mentally broken.” She would never be broken again and placed a foot between his and forced him back.  
  
As he began to fall, she threw her weight against his and sent him down to the floor. She straddled him with her legs off center, her knee pressing into his groin with full force and brutal intention, and her opposite foot swept the knife up to his side.  
  
“—As long as you can think, you will never be weak.”  
  
And in truth, she had never been weak. Slamming her skull against her opponent’s served its purpose, the pain kept her focused and stunned him. She grabbed the knife and wound her arms threw his as he tried to keep her away from his throat.  
  
Her eyes remained on his. Even now, facing a knife pointed at his throat, her opponent was proud of her. He didn’t know the game like she did. As their Master rose from his seat and walked with quiet steps to their mingled huddle, she almost wished that he had the instinct to be afraid of what was coming. Instead, he remained beneath her, fighting not as fervently as he should have to disarm her.  
  
Their Master stopped above them, just beyond the splayed tips of hair on the floor. He looked down at them, assessing their positions, calculating with his eternal wisdom how advantages could be won or loss. Finally, he inclined head once, first up, then down, and looked to her. “Once momentum has been gained, relinquish it for no reason, for life and death are always mingled and ever fickle. One can never know when it will sway one way versus the other. You must use whatever you can to keep the advantage in your favor.”  
  
With that, the Master stepped back and nodded to her. The sudden realization that this lesson hadn’t been intended for her opponent slowly dawned in his eyes, as the fear she’d hoped to find took root. Life was a very fickle thing. One day, someone could be one person and the next, find themselves being someone else entirely.  
  
As she brought the knife down, she realized she was an entirely different entity and she would always survive. Her opponent stopped kicking and grew still, lifeless now by her actions.  
  
She was his best student, without a doubt. He hadn’t tried to mold her to his image, hadn’t tried to sculpt her into a protégé after the last attempt had yielded such disastrous results. He already had a successor in his daughter. He taught her to understand her own limitations, but she learned to move beyond them all on her own.  
  
In the two years that she had been with him, she had come to realize there were worse things than being alone, being cattle for one thing.  
  
Sheep.  
  
She doesn’t think of anyone else for two years, save for two people: the Master and the other she couldn’t risk thinking about.  
  
They were each other’s secrets and it was best to keep it that way. But thinking of him had a way of making her nostalgic for the small time they had shared. Maybe she would write him a letter, once she was done here, even if he probably wouldn’t know it was from her. It would be worth it.  
  
Her Master stood in the doorway, where sunlight streamed in behind his back. He gifted her with a smile. She had served her time and survived only to be better. “Good work, Tess.”  
  
Then he was gone and soon, so would she.

* * *

When she was a little girl, she lived inside a fairy tale. She had two parents who loved and respected each other and loved her more than anything in the world. She was the world, their sun, moon and stars, and they told her so every night before bed.  
  
Strangely, Tess didn’t remember her dreams. Of course, she was sure that she had them, but none of them measured up to her reality. It was always the three of them, going places, watching movies, and riding together like a family.  
  
She used to be a dancer. A pretty pink ballerina who sang songs from West Side Story with her mother before bed. Her parents died like parents tend to do in fairy tales, leaving Tess to be raised by her aunt, who gave her a home and safety and that intangible little spice of life known as peace of mind.  
  
Her aunt died when she was nine. Again, she was left alone with darkness hovering over the formerly sunny plains of her childhood. She still sang songs from West Side Story, but now her words became stuck, sticky and congealed over one line. And like a broken record, she repeated the line until she slipped off to sleep.  
  
 _And I pity any girl who isn’t me._  
  
A guardian was appointed to her and given custodianship of the Mercer Estate until Tess’s twenty-first birthday. Without family to provide distraction from the boredom of life mired in boarding school politics and pre-adolescent forays into Machiavellian strategy, risk and manipulation, she became absorbed with the pursuit of knowledge.  
  
Epistemology was the easiest subject for a parentless child to study in a world full of logical answers for logical problems. Her pursuit of knowledge was just as cold and emotionless as she wanted to be, but couldn’t find it in herself to reach. Facts were concrete, solid and impregnable to emotions.  
  
She was a child genius, surrounded by people who wanted to test her limits. Outside the realms of reason, logic, qualitative and quantitative reasoning, she lost her grasp of music and dance. Already disconnected, she learned to sing only to herself and dance when no one else was around, lest she be stuck with a title of weird or crazy in addition to orphan.  
  
Before her aunt died, she gave Tess a journal, leather bound and rife with gold leaf pages. So she wrote long winding stories that were based around the lonely microcosm that her life inhabited and turned he words into a gateway for another universe.  
  
One where she was happy.  
  
One where she was never alone.  
  
Questions finally had answers and she was never without an explanation.  
  
But her aunt was dead and she had nothing else. So she finished course after course, and school after school, and still felt empty.  
  
She had riding and school, but nothing that made her happy. The other kids avoided her. Girls were jealous and boys were intimidated. It was only her and the music she kept to herself in her world.

* * *

At thirteen, she was in the throes of a most unkind adolescence. Tess was tall and reedy, with gangly knees that belonged more to a colt than a girl of true breeding. Her hair had a turn towards a darker shade of red after all her time spent in the sun, practicing for her equestrian events. Eyes just as blue as a china doll and twice as luminous, Tess unnerved the other students when they stared at her too long. Her face might have been clear of emotion, but her eyes seemed to scream out all that she was missing. As much as she tried to hide her feelings, she was just a girl and growing up had become more painful than graceful for her.  
  
It was a Sunday morning and she happened to be the only student sitting in the library. This was how she got ahead; she took every avenue afford to her and used it to her advantage. Used the quiet as another sanctuary from the probing eyes and insincere offers from the students around her.  
  
Today, she was studying biology, really physiology. She had always been fascinated by the mechanisms that operated the brain. The firing of neurons, axons and communication between synapses. Memories created and destroyed by simple mechanisms and chemical reactions. She wondered what combination of chemicals fired interacted inside her head to preserve memories of singing with her mother or riding with her father. She was infatuated with the natural balance of serotonin, norephrenpren and adrenaline.  
  
Entranced by her book, she didn’t hear the approaching steps until the chair across from her was being pulled back. She looked up from her text and paused as man sat down before her. He caught her eye and offered a small smile, one that eased the growing knot of natural fear that flooded her gut.  
  
He wore a nicely tailored casual black suit with a striking collared shirt in a shade of blue that was debatable in shade. He placed a folded newspaper on the table before asking, “Do you mind?”, as if the question was a simple after thought.  
  
Tess could hardly find it within herself to say no, though if her instincts protested enough, she would. There had to be a reason he approached her, besides the fact that the library was empty, save for her, the librarian and a few other studious early risers.  
  
Realizing he was waiting for an answer, she shook her head. “No,” she said.  
  
“Thanks.” Now he gave her a real smile. It was the sort of look that one received after paying someone a well and truly deserved compliment. She had hardly said anything significant.  
  
She watched as he, the stranger that had encroached on her table, opened the newspaper, a copy of the Daily Planet, and began to read. She watched him with morbid curiosity. The clock ticking away on the far wall was a far greater distraction than the man sitting in front of her.  
  
So she returned to reading. As she read about the brain centers that translated chemicals into happiness and anger, she felt the instinctual prickle of eyes on her person. Tess looked up to find him watching her.  
  
She could have screamed, because the situation would have been appropriate, but slight gesture he placed before her made her think twice. He dropped his palm and stared at her for a few more seconds.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to make you nervous.”  
  
Tess stared back at him; her blue eyes began to burn with a fire-like intensity. “I guess that is hard, considering you’re sitting sitting at table with a strange teenage girl and proceeded to stare at her while she attempted to study.”  
  
“In that case, I owe you another apology.”  
  
“That you do.”  
  
Now the man was grinning like his stock had taken a surprise turn for the positive. “I sincerely apologize. I was simply trying to recapture old memories.” He looked around the library, his eyes lighting on various points with a wistful expression. If not for the deep-seated sincerity in his tempestuous blue eyes, then she would have laughed and wondered aloud why he was he was pulling her leg.  
  
He pointed to the vast section of wall laden with thick tomes, worn and bound in expensive leather. Most were locked behind glass to keep the antique printings in mint condition. “Though I shouldn’t presume to know your mind, I would dare to say that you haven’t experienced nostalgia quite like I have.” His upper lip was bisected by a fine white line. “When I was a student here, this library was more of a home for me than my actual home. I spent countless hours reading the ancient myths and absorbing the lessons the philosophers and conquerors of antiquity.”  
  
Tess began to wonder where his speech was going, but decided it was for the best to not interrupt. Again, she was struck by some instinct that told her to be quiet and listen. It wasn’t often that others deigned to talk to her without ulterior motive or unkind desire propelling their motivations.  
  
“That one,” he pointed to the thick book as wide as a cinder block in the far top corner of the shelves, “was my favorite: _The Life and Times of Alexander of Macedonia_. I guess it would be self-serving to say that parallels in his life and mine engendered some of my fascination. I am his namesake after all, and the story of Alexander the Great is certainly one of history’s best epics. I dare say that I hope my life is only a fractionally as exciting as his.”  
  
Tess set aside her book. “So your nostalgia for history and the desire to be called great brought you back here like some ancient history fanboy?” Her question sounded far snottier when said aloud, though she didn’t regret it.  
  
He turned away from the book display. His mouth drew up into a tight smile. “I realize I deserved that. Actually,” he relaxed in his seat, as if he had been given permission to get comfortable. His slightly slouched posture was evocative of a stance taken between old friends. “I came back to for the alumni weekend, also known as Excelsior’s Founder’s Weekend or their biggest fundraiser of the year; however the administration wants to dress it up, it’s still an exercise in monetary exchange. Though I’m sure some of the faculty would have preferred that I stayed home and simply mailed a check.”  
  
Tess nodded appropriately. For an institution that prided itself on the education and expansion of the educational horizons of its students, the faculty was surprisingly prejudicial and biased when it came to student disputes, wealth hierarchies and new world pedigrees. She had often felt that her lack of parents had somehow made her less in the eyes of her peers and teachers, though her family’s wealth placed her within the top ninety-fifth percentile of wealthiest students.  
  
“I understand,” she empathized. For the first time, she noticed that he lacked eyebrows and yet, he didn’t appear at all uncomfortable nor was she disquieted about her discovery, rather his appearance seemed all the more striking. “Though I sense there’s more to your story than previously stated. I know my experiences speak of a lack of human caring, a failing to be genuinely compassionate…”  
  
“Thus, the review of a pivotal text exploring the evolution of emotion and human psychology. I doubt you will find what you are looking for. If you’re searching for the origin of empathy and compassion, you will find clinical definitions and sterile empirical explanations, but the heart of the matter, the actual reality of these things is that they only exist when they are learned not viewed as a weakness. This place tries to grind any aspect of weakness out of its pupils and those that resist,” he flicked his finger between them, “are summarily stifled and snuffed out.”  
  
Tess was not one to believe in any concrete form of religion. His words touched a tender spot deep inside her. He spoke as if he knew her loneliness and emptiness she felt. As he stared into her eyes, she began to wonder just how thin his excuse was to approach her, though no less genuine in desire.  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
He leaned closer to her, keeping his voice steady and low, as if to prevent any unwanted ears from listening. “I have learned that a friend is someone you need without you really knowing it. I think we may have a lot in common, more so than you could possibly think.”  
  
Her naiveté might prove detrimental in the future, but in that moment, when he looked at her like an equal without a tragic past or severed connections. “Really?”  
  
“You look like you could use a friend and I have found that true friends show up in unexpected times and places. I think you and I should be friends.” He digressed after making an effusive gesture. “I used this table quite frequently when I was a student here.” He pointed to the worn carvings etched into the wood. “It seems like a separate lifetime.”  
  
Tess closed the book and folded her hands over the glossy top. Why a man, at least eight years older than her, would want to be her friend made no sense. This was obviously one of those situations that parents warned their children about and she was sure that she would have had the same gut reaction that she normally did to false platitudes and obsequious hangers on.  
  
“For once, I hope to be the person that will tell you that I mean no harm and genuinely mean it. I know you may be reluctant to accept my offer of friendship, but having someone to talk to, who will, above all, listen, is an invaluable asset. I believe you will understand why that is important.”  
  
She found herself wanting to reach across the table and clasp the palm that was extended towards her. Her day had not started out as she had expected. If she was more fanciful, she’d wonder if she was still dreaming. But who dreamed of connectedness rather than memories of smiling parents and happier times?  
  
Now Tess looked around the library and noted that it was just as vacant as an hour ago. The thought that this entire conversation could be an elaborate prank brought her up short from answering. Her shoulders slumped under the heavy weight of decision.  
  
Finally, she thought about his words, his assumptions and she had to know more. “Why do you speak as if you know me?”  
  
The regal way in which he braced his face with his hands was much a familiar gesture. It brought attention once again to his eyes and the sure expression on his face. All these tells professed his honesty and gave her some leverage in this meeting. “I know who you really are and I believed this was the only way for me to see you.”  
  
“Why?” she asked.  
  
He shrugged. “Because you needed to know that you are not alone.”  
  
She had listened and absorbed all that he had to her. From what he said, she knew bits and pieces of minutia about him, things that most would consider inconsequential, but in the reference frame of this moment, they mattered greatly. “Your name is Alexander like the Great Conqueror, for whom you are his namesake.”  
  
“You are Tess.” Alexander smiled. “And I am so happy to meet you.”

* * *

At sixteen, she began college and transcripts full of advanced placement courses granted her sophomore status. She was no longer an awkward child, but a young woman on the march towards a greater destiny. College was not nearly as challenging as she believed it to be. Instead, she found herself studying in libraries and coffee shops in lieu of going back to the empty space of her dorm room.  
  
Of course, a Mercer was given a single. Her family background and her age were the primary considerations that have segregated her from the freshmen bonding experience. She felt like a drop of oil on a sea of water; the vast ocean of students allowed her anonymity, despite her separate status.  
  
All the while during the days that she crossed the quintessential Ivy League quadrangle, feet crushing decayed and dying autumnal leaves as she walked, Tess smiled in hopes of a new letter from Alexander.  
  
Tess found a note, though; it was not what she had been expecting.  
  
 _Dearest Tess,  
  
I fear this may be my last letter for some time. My lack of writing will not mean that I have forgotten you or have simply become too busy to respond; I feel that I will not have the power to do so.  
  
I haven’t been myself lately. Much of what I thought I knew, I’m not so sure of anymore. I do know that you are someone that I can trust, and for that reason, I must keep you safe above all others.  
  
Don’t believe anything that you read or hear.  
  
Just know that you will always be in my heart and thoughts, just as I will be in yours. I will contact you as soon as I can.  
  
With Deepest Affection,  
  
Alexander  
  
P.S. Speak of me to no one._  
  
The letter was cryptic and harried; Tess could tell just but the blunt edges of Alexander’s naturally crisp and elegant script. She need not wonder long what Alexander’s words meant. Events surrounding Alexander and the Luthor name ebb and flow like the seasons’ tides.  
  
First, Alexander married—for love, according to another short correspondence. Though he never deigned to introduce Tess and Helen. Tess conjectured that she would have been able to sniff out Helen had Alexander given her the chance, but he would have pointed out that them meeting would have exposed his flank to his father. Tess never understood how that was so and Alexander never cared to explain it to her.  
  
The second event was as abrupt as it was sudden. The juiciest gossip of the business world and the old money circles pertained to Lex Luthor’s nervous breakdown and subsequent institutionalization at the hands of his father. For weeks, Tess only heard people lamenting the elder Luthor’s misfortune of losing his wife, youngest child and being saddled with a son that was blooming into a continual disappointment.  
  
Tess found it extraordinarily hard to go to class then. Hearing Lionel Luthor wax poetically and with the morose disposition of the Cheshire Cat on CNBC gave Tess her first taste at hating the man. She hadn’t cared about the man one way or another prior to meeting Alexander. Later, as their relationship grew, identifying what Alexander wasn’t saying during the conversations became a game for her, one that continuously led back to Lionel Luthor.  
  
Tess allowed her hero-worship to blind her only so much. Alexander was far from perfect. He was an idealist however, an idealist who used history and precedent to help craft his designs for a better future. Sometimes his clear visions were clouded by grey clouds and skies, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he should quit what he was doing.  
  
Lionel Luthor…  
  
Lionel Luthor was everything that was bad about Alexander. Lionel Luthor made Lex and Lex was always conflicted. Alexander was headstrong and resolute, a survivor, but Lex wanted to live in the shadow of his father’s greatness, all the while building the very means to send his father toppling down.  
  
It didn’t come as much of a surprise that Lionel Luthor was indicted for conspiracy, murder, fraud, and a litany of other sins that ultimately had his comrades bemoaning that Lionel was only living down to the expectations of his natural breeding.  
  
It was the third happiest day of her life, because Alexander would finally be free.

* * *

A week after Lionel Luthor had been welcomed into the arms of Kansas State Penitentiary; Tess received an invitation from Alexander. The timing has been impeccable, as she’d just thrown herself across her bed in ecstasy. Her courses were over, leaving her with a single semester to finish the work on her honors thesis. Luckily, she wouldn’t need half the allotted time, as it was nearly done.  
  
Alexander’s missive made her happy in a way that she hadn’t been for sometime. She missed him deeply. A year and a half had passed since they had last seen each other. Though she had seen his face in newspapers, gossip magazines and blogs daily since his return to prominence in Metropolis and the sole leader of LuthorCorp, now LexCorp.  
  
Tess couldn’t have been happier for him.  
  
She dressed warmly, yet with enough flair to show how much she had grown over the last few years. She was right there, on the precipice of firm womanhood, and for the life of her she wanted Alexander to see it. Not that she had any romantic leanings towards Alexander; it just felt right to be at her best when in front of him.  
  
A few blocks shy of Harvard Square when she saw him. She would be lying if she said that he looked exactly the same, because that totally false. Alexander had blossomed into his own right. He was no longer the waif-like fae prince that she had often imagined him to be. No, Alexander was a man, a full robust man, who radiated power, even in the most mundane of circumstances, like at this very moment as he leaned against his silver Mercedes 4x4.  
  
Her stride quickened, heels clicked away excitedly at the cobblestone pavement, as she neared him. When less than a quarter of the block separated them, Alexander looked up and saw her, and his lips parted into a smile that could only be called enchanting.  
Just like that electric current taut like magnetic attraction reeled them in closer to each other until they stood toe to toe.  
  
With Alexander, she found it hard to be guarded. Every aspect of her face reflected her sheer joy at seeing him again from the blush in her cheeks, her grin and the renewed sparkle in her eyes. Alexander, always so reserved and staunch, mirrored her completely. He reached out for her and hooked his arms over her shoulder and pulled her into his body, and placed a small kiss in her hair.  
  
“Hello Tess,” he breathed into her hair and grasped her tighter.  
  
She clung to him all the same. Like in this, in his arms, despite the open street, she felt like that little girl, who’d been rescued from her isolation and her disappointment in others. “Alexander,” she sighed, clinging to him still. It would be hard to let go after so long.  
  
Gradually, his arms fell away from her and she stepped back, feeling renewed and connected. They straightened up and righted themselves, both mentally and physically, against the intrusion of the rest of the world.  
  
Alexander burrowed his hands inside his overcoat pockets and gestured lazily. It was a gesture that she hadn’t seen in sometime. One that was easy to forget, yet definitely Alexander. He was a man who was always cold, though everything he did generated heat and fire, implosions more often than not.  
  
“So tapas?” he managed to say and shrugged. “I thought that would be the solution to our food stand-off.” Neither Alexander nor Tess was a food person. They ate to live, but did not live to eat more than necessary. Tess liked a good pizza, pad thai or curry, but more often than not, she preferred the relish of finishing her work to the savory flavors of food.  
  
Alexander was satisfied only when absolutely hungry. Otherwise, he wasn’t inclined to eat.  
  
“I’m free the entire afternoon, but I suppose you already knew that.”  
  
“Guilty as charged,” he said, “Though I believe congratulations are in order, as you are burning through your coursework.” Alexander cocked his head in the direction of the waterfront and Tess affirmed his suggestion by walking that direction.  
  
“No congratulations are necessary. I’m just doing what I must to finish.”  
  
“I hope you are taking the time to have fun. Remember all work and no play…”  
  
Tess rolled her eyes, “Makes Alexander stay away. Is that what you were doing to say?”  
  
Lex shook his head, smirking at her and steadily leading them towards the river. As she looked at him, he seemed older about the eyes, not tired per se, but focused and strained. The events surrounding his father’s trial had surely placed a strain on him.  
  
“Touché,” Alexander agreed. “It’s been too long.” His silence was heavy and loaded with the burdens that waited for him in Metropolis and Smallville. “I would hope that nothing keeps me away so long again.”  
  
“I would hope so. It’s a very unpleasant thing to have a pen pal, who never writes you back.”  
  
Tess gestured for him to wait before dashing off into a small deli. She made quick work of gathering an assortment of foods and bottles of Ty Nant to sate their picky palettes and the needs of an impromptu picnic.  
  
In park, they found a vacant bench atop a grassy knoll, looking down on the Charles River and the closest bridge. The sight was genuinely idyllic. Perfect for their conversation.  
  
Neither of them was good at small talk. Every conversation had an aim to be reached, a conclusion to be discovered; as candid at they tended to be with each other, this was still true for them as well.  
  
“So, how’s life? Metropolis? Smallville? I’ll let you take your pick.”  
  
“Complicated, but better. Immensely better now that…” he trailed off, before fixing his eyes ahead at the placid waters of the river.  
  
“Alexander.”  
  
“Lex,” he replied, calmly, then shot her a look from the corners of his eyes.  
  
“Why Lex?”  
  
“It’s what everyone else calls me.”  
  
“As we are fond of reminding each other, we are not like everyone else.”  
  
“True indeed. You are far more special than everyone else.”  
  
“Don’t try to distract me, Alex-Lex. I want to know about you.”  
  
“Sadly, Tess, there’s too much to say and not enough time. Suffice to know that things are better in a manner of speaking. I’m out from under my father’s thumb, so I can be free to do as I wish, most of the time, at least.”  
  
“And the times that you can’t.”  
  
“I used to spend worrying, planning and strategizing.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Lex looked at her then, pinned her in place with eyes so deep and penetrating that Tess found it difficult to not flinch under his scrutiny. “Did you know that you are the only person in my life, who trusts me implicitly?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I?”  
  
“That’s the question of my life, Tess. I ask myself that every day.” His gaze drifted back to the water and away from her. “Have you ever considered that you shouldn’t trust me?”  
  
“No, but I do wonder why you’ve stayed away. I get platonic friendships are hard to believe with the media’s myopic perception of male-female relationships.”  
  
“True, but it’s not that simple.” He chuckled, “I wish it was that simple. Tess, I stayed away to protect you.”  
  
“I didn’t know I needed protection.”  
  
“You do or you did, I’m still debating how much protection is enough.” He gestured to keep her quiet. “I know you can protect yourself, but some forces are bigger than you. At the moment.”  
  
“Just tell me, Lex. Say what you need to say.”  
  
“Have you ever seen a ghost? I’ve seen angels and all sorts of things that are out of the spectrum of normal, but ghosts always tend to haunt those who they need to speak to.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“Let me tell you a story about a boy,” Lex began, quietly and Tess had the urge to tell him that she was too old for Harry Potter, but such a comment would have been unnecessarily disrespectful. “He was loved by two women; both so beautiful and fair that they could've passed for sisters. One was a mother, the other a nanny, and they loved a very sad, sickly little boy. The boy’s father despised him from the day of his birth and no matter what the boy did, no matter how perfect or sincere, the man looked down on his son and treated him cruelly.”  
  
Tess knew this story was about Lex. Why he decided to share the details of his life now, she wasn’t sure. All the things she’d assumed about Lex and Lionel’s relationship made more sense when framed by Lionel’s continued disinterest in his son. She listened as he continued to paint a picture wrought with woe and desolation, and she felt the pain transfer from him so easily to her.  
  
He removed a wrinkled envelope from his pocket, smoothed his fingers over the worn face as gently as a tailor would with newly mended fabric, and spoke in a low tone that plunged them deeper into the sad tale. “The boy’s mother died when he was eleven, fairly soon after giving birth to a baby boy that didn’t live to see his first birthday. The nanny loved the boy fiercely, just as his mother had, protected him at every turn from the games and whims of his cruel father, but she too left him. And the boy felt betrayed.”  
  
A second envelope joined the first in his hands. “So the boy suffered for years under his father’s unrelenting tyranny and acted out—lashed out until his father locked him away and made him grow up.”  
  
Smallville had always sounded like a beautiful prison to Tess. Lex had open expanses and distance separating him and his father, but the man always found a way to subvert Lex’s control. His father’s deeds were always laid on Lex’s doorstep, paid in his blood or the blood of his friends.  
  
Lex didn’t talk much about his friends. On occasion, he mentioned school boy acquaintances like Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne, both of which he would rather she have as minimal contact with as possible. His friends in Smallville were the genteel colorful characters one would expect to find in the heart of Americana. She could recall the names of Pete, Chloe, Lana and the Kents. All spoken of in general terms. The one he said the most and least about was Clark, a member of the Kent family, that Lex was intrigued and enamored with at every term.  
  
Clark Kent was Lex’s ultimate fascination.  
  
A boy.  
  
A hero.  
  
Lex’s supposed angel.  
  
Tess wanted to meet this boy that had captured Lex’s attention.  
  
She worried about him, because the boy was her age and people in small towns tended to not be so kind with their presumptions. Though she trusted Lex wouldn’t be led astray, that ultimately, his belief and trust in Clark was warranted and that the feelings shared were mutual.  
  
“The nanny came back though, when the boy had become a man. She wanted to apologize and beg forgiveness for leaving him and her betrayal. The young man forgave her for leaving him, but their time together was terribly short, as she came back to tell him many things, because she wouldn’t have the ability to do so later. She was dying and wanted to fulfill her debt to the boy’s mother and the boy prior to her death. She told him all sorts of things. All of which have changed his life, mostly for the better. She gave him all that she could give until there was no more and she died … Her name was Pamela Jenkins and she loved me.”  
  
A dreamscape formed where the river and rolling plains of grass had once been. Now she could see Lex sitting at the bedside of Pamela, his dear nanny, reading passages of their favorite childhood book. She labored to breathe; as each inhale becoming harder and harder, she pointed at her bag and signaled for Lex to retrieve it. He brought it to her and gently placed it within her arms. He helped her to open it, push aside the flaps and removed an older copy of Peter Pan. Tucked into the center pages were several envelopes, two addressed to Lex and one to another.  
  
“Pamela took a leave of absence for five months when I was eight years old.” He held up the envelopes for Tess’s inspection. “She was too weak to speak and knew that would probably be a possibility before the end, so she laid it all out in these letters.”  
  
The first envelope he handed to Tess was full of sheets of stock. Letters dividing the shares of LuthorCorp stock between Pamela Jenkins’ heirs: Lex and Lutessa Luthor. The second envelope contained a series of hospital report: a birth certificate, a sonogram, a series of baby footprints and handprints, and statements of adoption.  
  
“Pamela gave birth to baby girl on November 12, 1988. If you read the birth certificate, you will see that the father is listed as Lionel Luthor, my father, and her birth name was Lutessa.”  
  
Lutessa.  
  
Lu-Tessa.  
  
Tess.  
  
Was he actually saying—it didn’t matter what he was asserting, he was definitely wrong. Her parents were Brett and Judith Mercer. Tess pulled her jacket tighter about her and adjusted her scarf. She blatantly ignored the look her was giving her. She returned the papers to him, having seen enough, and decided to turn attention to her Ty Nant bottle.  
  
Lex, undeterred by Tess’s disbelief, folded the papers and returned them to his inner coat pocket. From his inner pocket, he retrieved several photographs. “You may find this hard to believe, but I’m not lying.”  
  
Tess scoffed. “How do you know? Deathbed confesses are rarely true; how can you think that I’m this … Lutessa you’re looking for? I have parents and I loved them fiercely until they were taken from me. And I’m sure, if I had other relatives besides my aunt, they would have come forward earlier.” She was by no means sad. In fact, she was angry—furious that Lex would try to unsettle all the firm truths in her life. Sometimes, wishful thinking was just that and not meant to become true.  
  
As a picnic, this occasion had been a bust. The sandwiches and paninis remained intact at the bottom of the grocer’s bag. The only things either of them had shown interest in were the bottles of Ty Nant. She looked from her bottle to his. Their preference for Ty Nant spoke of similar tastes, but didn’t necessarily indicate that there was some sort of deep familial bond.  
  
Lex smiled, a slight curling of the lips that spoke of his amusement and patience. “You asked how do I know that you’re the one.”  
  
“Yes,” Tess nodded.  
  
He reached across the bench and plucked the jewel blue bottle from her hands. “This. It told me everything.”  
  
She looked at the bottle for several seconds. The wind blew the curls at her temple free from her ponytail and they whipped about her face. The river babbled down below as ordinary people paddled the day away on paddled boats or jogged along its snaking curves. It was hard to imagine all of those people doing such mundane things, while she was being told that her dearest friend had betrayed her trust and privacy at more turns than she could count.  
  
Slowly, Tess rose from the bench, leaving Lex at her back, and walked to edge of the little hill. She needed space between them. Needed to be as far as possible from him at the moment. He respected her desire for space, remaining just at her back, though he did not remain silent.  
  
“I needed to know, Tess, so that I could better protect you.”  
  
“From what?” she yelled as tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. “It looks like I need protection from you more so than anyone else. Who else would go so far to enter a thirteen year old girl’s life and make her think she’d found the best friend she could ever imagine?”  
  
She left her anger flow before staunching it cold with one long hard blink. Tess hated being weak in front of others. She’d learned the hard way that weakness only resulted in the inevitable knives being thrust deeper inside. And Lex knew how she felt. The very thought of their new power imbalance caused her great internal distress. Trust was such a biddable thing; he’d held it and acted as if it was transparent and did as wanted without little thought of her, Tess believed.  
  
Her eyes drifted to the grass between her feet. It was still and solid, completely firm beneath her feet; not adding to the rising vertigo from her emulsified emotions set to the tempo of the river’s current. The last of her tears fell towards the grass, only to be stopped by the interruption of Lex’s shiny black boots.  
  
Lex grabbed her by the upper arms, forcefully but with no harmful intent in his grip. “I protected you from my—our father. He found Lucas with the sole intention of pitting us against each other and as a result, Lucas is so far off the reservation,” Lex sighed, his face drawing tighter with his turbulent thoughts and said, “That our father wouldn’t want him as a chew toy at the moment. He would have easily done the same to you. To us.”  
  
He sipped his finger under her chin in order to tilt her head up towards his. “I made a promise to Pamela and I have done all that I can to ensure that you have grown up safe and, I hope, happy.”  
  
“I was,” Tess spat venomously.  
  
The hands at her sides loosened without falling and Lex grimaced, as if her words had actually wounded him. “Again, I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the best for both of us. I hope you can forgive me one day, when you finally realize the all the sacrifices that were made to keep you happy.”  
  
Tess mapped Lex’s face with her eyes, searching for any common physical traits. By Lex’s admission and the pictures in hand, they shared pale fair skin and curly roseate auburn hair. They possessed expressive blue-grey eyes that darkened when angry, lips that tended to be appeared permanently flushed and chins stubbornly jutted.  
  
It was as clear as day, if she wanted to believe it.  
  
“Of all the times to tell me, why now?”  
  
“There are so many reasons.”  
  
On that cool autumn day, they stood atop the hill like two people watching the world the world pass them by with carefree abandon. Cambridge unfolded in front of them; its skyline dotted with the brick and mortar faces of prerevolutionary America and the iron, glass and style of the ever-changing modernity.  
  
It was a beautiful day.  
  
And for the span of an hour, Lex delivered truth after bitter truth about the family legacy and dealings that Tess had not wanted nor desired to be a part. Frankly, he explained as a gaggle of small children bicycled by on the path below, her approaching birthday forced his decision. At eighteen, the stocks left to her by Pamela would be made known to her and she would have a sizeable interest in LuthorCorp, which would ultimately bring her to Lionel’s attention.  
  
The second point drew a weary expression to his face. A look that always correlated with any thoughts of his father. “As you know, our father is currently being held at the Kansas State Penitentiary, where he is serving the sentence that his peers have passed for him as a result of his many, many crimes.” He licked the faint white scar that marred his upper lip and pursed his lips to keep his smirk from spreading across his face. “There’s another thing that his occupying his time; he’s dying.”  
  
“Really?” Though Tess would never be a fan of Lionel Luthor, knowing that Lex would lose the last real semblance of his family touched her, arose a deep sense of empathy inside of her. Tess knew what it was like to lose her parents and her aunt. Lex barely had any contact with Lucas; Lionel’s passing would essentially render him an only child once more.  
  
That was until now, at least.  
  
Lionel was owed a slow death, the just rewards for a lifetime of devious behavior and abuse hurled at all those with the misfortune of being in his orbit. A slow painful death would be cosmic justice for Lionel Luthor.  
  
Finally, she drifted back towards the bench and, without a sound, she sank heavily down onto it. Lex followed her, mirroring her position, but with more grace than she could muster at the moment. A rainbow looped over the small bridge about a quarter-mile upstream. A laugh bubbled up from some inappropriately amused wellspring that hadn’t been affected by an afternoon’s worth of shocking revelations.  
  
“Anything else? I mean, you aren’t going to tell me that you’re hiding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, are you?” Tess laughed; Lex shook his head gently.  
  
“No, that I can promise you,” Lex said as he turned his palm face up in the open space between them. She looked at his hand. It was a small gesture, though meaningful, as the Alexander---Lex, she’d come to know wasn’t all that affectionate. But this was a bridge, she thought, and reached out and took his hand. “Would you believe me, if I said I missed you? Because I have, Tess. I've really missed you.”  
  
Just like she missed him.  
  
Until today, Lex had never truly lied to her. He had kept things from her, all in the pursuit of protecting her wellbeing. Lex lying to her about being his sister was small potatoes when considering matricide, patricide, arson, fraud, attempted murder, false imprisonment and conspiracy to commit, well, everything.  
  
“I can believe that, because I’ve missed you too.”  
  
For the remainder of the afternoon, Lex and Tess sat in the park and watched the cityscape and the world ahead change in imperceptible ways. No fireworks would commemorate this occasion. No human interests pieces on the local news or the newspapers.  
  
This was a secret meant for them.  
  
And Tess could live with having her world expanded just so.  
  
Tess was three weeks shy of turning eighteen, when she learned that she was not who she thought she was. According to Lex, she was now better than she expected.  
  
He gave her his favorite book, the one that he and her mother had cherished, as a birthday present. Lex underlined one passage in particular for her to see.  
  
 _You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you, Peter Pan. That's where I'll be waiting._  
  
Such was the story of Tess’s life with Lex.

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tess grows up.

Years later, she boarded a jet from Dubai bound for New York and finally back to Metropolis. Her body ached slightly, muscles stiff like old leather and tired from countless rounds of practice and hits on opponents completely unprepared to face her.  
  
Just the thought of bone and cartilage snapping beneath her fist elicited a slow, soft smile. She considered writing a letter to Oliver, because their fights always tended to be epic. Lex greatly enjoyed hearing how she’d one upped Oliver after the crash. Being kidnapped together was far from what she’d hoped for as an introduction to Star City’s Crown Prince. Megan had paid an unfair price for being Tess’s friend, once again reaffirming Lex’s belief that Luthors didn’t have friends, just people they get killed or stab them in the back.  
  
She had hours to go before she would be back in the states. The journey seemed all the longer since sleep was not to be had. Her trust in planes was greatly diminished as result of crashing in the South Pacific the year before. Lex had been frantic with worry.  
  
Tess had been learning to take care of herself for years. Meeting Ra’s Al Ghul had been an accident. One that Lex fully supported due to the limitless connections and the training possibilities at Al Ghul’s disposal. After years of inept service, kidnappings, and bludgeoning, Lex figured that Tess being trained for actual combat by the world’s best would enable her to fare far better than he had.  
  
Then, Tess met Talia. Tall, beautiful and deadly Talia; the only other person she’d met, who kept violence in her sex and sex in her violence. They hadn’t always been like this—so cunning and fiercely serpentine that it was difficult to decipher where the woman began and the mission ended. Talia knew her own mind, made wise decisions constantly and moved with well-oiled grace. Yet, her fatal flaw was need of constant approval from her father.  
  
Ra’s might have trained them both and expected them to lead their respective missions, but he did not expect them to lead his mission. For a man as visionary as him, he was greatly myopic in his views of power and sex. In his eyes, Talia would lead but fail to be the symbol, the emblem of his cause, because she was female. She could snag another—a man, of course, who would be the son that Ra’s always wished he had but failed to realize he didn’t need because Talia was capable of resurrecting and destroying empires already, if he would only give her the word.  
  
Talia would never be like Tess, who was currently flying from country to country with the aim of mixing business and pleasure in the truest sense. She visited LexCorp contacts, investigated labs and submitted samples. All the while entrenching herself in the nightlife and private beaches of her various locales. Talia would never dream of running away from her father or ignoring him.  
  
This wasn’t some flight of fancy. Tess was twenty-two years old and balanced consulting the entirety of the bio-chemical engineering wing, surveillance on a surprisingly well Lionel Luthor and the aggressive courtship of Amanda Waller’s Checkmate Organization.  
  
As she sipped her mimosa, eyes gazing at the clouds dotting the crystal thin air like sheep on the celestial plain, a beatific smile crossed her lips. “Always a dancer, never a hero.” She toasted to herself, though her thoughts mostly resembled always a _villain_.  
  
She found herself walking a similar road as her brother, long, winding and steep to a fault; where it led, no one truly knew, only speculated and assumed the worst. That was why she was here, making this trip. Through a grudgingly rough set of life experiences and every hard knock realized in the course of her training and coming to accept her position as illegitimate Luthor heir, Tess had come to accept her faults and the mistakes that she had yet to make.  
  
Unlike Lex, though, she tried to avoid making mistakes as much as possible.  
  
Her neck ached, stiff and sore from strain and frequent hyperextension. Talia was a welcomed reprieve from the mess of her brother’s making. Marrying the girl of your former best friend’s dreams was childish and bound to end in disaster.  
  
Their last conversation had been strained.  
  
“You’re being unreasonable,” he said, growing frustrated with Tess’s refusal to meet Lana.  
  
Tess laughed into her phone, her voice resounding like the bitter cackle of winter wind. “I’m being unreasonable, says the man marrying essentially his ex’s ex. I think I’m being quite reasonable really. We have established a need to keep me hidden, and the last person who should be made privy to my existence, oh dear brother, is someone who will make a fleeting appearance in your life.”  
  
“Tess,” his voice held a tight rein of warning, “You’ve gone too far. I care for Lana, deeply and truly. I love her. I want her to be my wife, not out of some vindictive pursuit, but the logical culmination of true love. I’m insisting on you being there, because you are also greatly important to me; the most important person to me.”  
  
She’d almost relented then, given in under the weight of familial obligation. Yet, her gut--- the same instinct that told her where to swing and strike, also advised her not to meet this woman and risk meeting Lionel in the flesh.  
  
So she jested instead, used her sarcasm and stubbornness to rile him up and avoid further confrontation unlike he caught on to her little trick. “What is she? Your second, third or fourth wife? At this rate, you’ll be the next Henry the VIII by the time you’re forty.”  
  
“Third wife,” Lex admitted calmly. “Though the first that I love completely.”  
  
Tess might have lacked in general romances, but flirtations and short liaisons were more her forte. From half a world away, she could see it. See that Lex’s heart would be broken and the blowback would be earth shattering.  
  
“Maybe, next time,” she promised, actually meaning the words. She hung up then and refused his calls thereafter, though Lex knew that she was all right based on her reports and any intel on her whereabouts.  
  
That was how she got to see Talia again. A lover that no one else had been able to dethrone, including Oliver Queen, as the chief conductor in the symphony of the sounds and rhythm her body made while in pits of passions.  
  
Seville was one of her favorite places. The food and the sherry managed to do something to her, a reaction out of her that was next to carefree and joyful. That was how Talia found her, wandering through the Alcázar Gardens. After finishing the topiary maze, Tess looked up and saw Talia reclining against the low stone railing at the edge of the patio. She stalked up the steps to stand next to her. As a pair, they caught the eye of many with their striking contrasts. Like ghosts of royals, _donacellas_ of long dead regimes, they stood together gazing down at the gardens splendor and quietly reflected on why the other was there.  
  
With barely more than a look, they returned to Tess’s villa.  
  
“Needed to get away,” Tess asked as she pushed a stray lock of Talia’s bountiful tresses behind her ear.  
  
Talia smiled and kissed Tess’s eager fingers. “Yes and from what I hear, you do too.”  
  
Talia’s voice was a constant scratchy purr. A voice so sensual that it caressed her skin during raspy pilgrimages from neck to shoulder, down to her breasts and ever lower to the places she needed the pressure most.  
  
Her world was narrowed to four things: fighting, fucking, diplomacy, and pleasing her father. The latter was nearly impossible to come by. Just like Lex and Lionel, minus the dangerous games. Ra’s provided lessons instead. “Lex wants to keep you in his shadow, just as my father wants to keep me in his.”  
  
Tess left the next morning.  
  
Not to leave things between them on a sour note, Talia followed her to Dubai, a place where they were least likely to be recognized. Talia replaced her candor with exploratory kisses and deft treks of her hands over every inch of Tess’s body.  
  
They were back to good terms by the end of the week. Each ready to resume the roles carved out for them by the men in their lives. Tess had a bit more running to do before she returned to Lex’s grasp. Wanted more time to make him wait in nervous anticipation like she had through his countless disappearances, ill-advised affairs and incidents with extraterrestrial or meteor-infected life.  
  
Lex might jest that the devil would tremble on bended knee for him, but he knew Tess wouldn’t. Her eyes were sure to glow with a mischievous sparkle, her lips would curl into a sideways smirk before giving up and releasing a full blown smile.  
  
He would wait, because Lex had patience in spades. That energy could be better directed to other uses and she would see to her brother finding some new interests as well.  
  
Tess would be home soon and mature enough to leave the _I told you so_ at the door.

* * *

Tess’s declaration of soon was not soon enough.  
  
Lex managed to lose a child and separate from his wife. Lana’s death subsequent death at the hands of an exploding car appeared as phony as the body recovered. Though Lex’s troubles were rising higher with each passing day.  
  
Lana was alive. Tess had seen her, kept surveillance on her little apartment in Shanghai and allowed her the illusion of anonymity. If Lex had ever given the word, instead of allowing himself to squirm on the hook for a crime he didn’t commit, Tess would have finished Lana. Her brother’s soft heart kept the woman alive and a permanent loose end in Tess’s book.  
  
Julian returned from the grave, older, wiser, alive, and ready to see Lex grovel at Lionel’s urging. Waller had been privy to the clone’s existence, knew all about Project Ares and subsequent failures, and figured it was easier to pull the plug on Lex and Lionel’s little science experiment before the fallout was too severe for even Luthor money to cover up.  
  
A murder charge, bad press, cloned siblings and continued father-son enmity were all ingredients for a disaster. One that reached an irrevocable peek at one rainy night on a chilly autumn evening. Lionel swan dived from his penthouse office, leaving Lex the entire stable of Luthor holdings and a messy smear on the streets of Metropolis, and suspicions of half the town that Lex had pushed him.  
  
She returned to Metropolis at the start of the summer one year later. A Lotus was less low-profile than a Mercedes or a BMW. Tess felt she’d earned the right to be a little flashy. She felt like Caesar returning from Gaul, cruising triumphantly towards LuthorCorp Plaza, her tag proudly proclaimed her life’s credo— _No Mercy_.  
  
There were no trumpets, no horns, no cheering masses shouting out to her as she marched into the heart of Metropolis and made her presence known. Her welcome was less than stellar, as Lex was on his way to finally capture that white whale he’d so desperately longed to have. He went to the arctic on an expedition to find the identity of the Traveler.  
  
As Tess stared out at the cityscape, the kingdom that she’d never wanted, but nevertheless inherited through blood, deeds and allegiance, she smiled, soft and sweet, an expression that had been absent during her days as a broken fairy princess with dreams of dancing and racing ponies. It was a beautiful city despite the invisible shadow of Luthor blood and sweat that tarnished every corner.  
  
Tess waited in Metropolis for Lex’s return.  
  
According to the world, he never did. Tess found her brother, uncovered his nearly frozen body with her two hands and carried him to safety via helicopter, all the while promising to keep him safe.

* * *

Clark Kent was everything Lex had ever said he was.  
  
The moment Tess laid eyes on him at the Daily Planet, her eyes traced every inch of his form and face, as if he was an undiscovered piece of art or a science discovery rivaling the splitting of atom in epic scope. Clark Kent was far from the farm boy friend with a knack for being in the right place at the right time that she had envisioned. He was tall, sturdy—healthy and strong in a manner that suggested natural beefiness and years of hard work than hours spent in a gym for vanity purposes, and beautiful in a manner that defied traditional masculine and feminine classifications.  
  
Everything about him reeked of vitality, hidden strength and mysteries to be solved. Tess finally understood Lex’s obsession. As she grilled Clark on his lack of professionalism as a result of him entering her office like a stalwart soldier heading into the breach, emotions played across his face. So many, so quickly, all of which amplified her curiosity like a child watching the glow of a firefly’s tail, he dodged her attempts to catch him.  
  
She can only imagine what he looked like years ago when he dove into a river and released her brother from the confines of death. A kiss of life, she liked to tease, because it awarded her with one of Lex’s rare blushes.  
  
In Clark Kent, Tess found someone whose brain she wanted to pick, along with whose natural defenses she wanted to test. Despite his size, he looked like a fighter, and Tess was always up for new opponents. On a highly superficial level, she wanted him in her bed. All that power and beauty would probably amount to much satisfaction.  
  
Lois Lane was as lucky as she was annoying.  
  
Lois had a knack for asking the right questions at the wrong time. She also had Clark’s trust, though she doubted access to what made him _so … special_. Strong and tenacious, Lois had ever quality that Tess found attractive in a bed partner. They even fought once. Lois’s victory had been a gift. A lesson learned at the heel of her master: lose one fight in order to learn how to win all others.  
  
Knowing the possibility of getting Clark, Lois or Chloe Sullivan in her bed was slim to none; she contented herself by testing their limits and searching for any secrets that were connected to Lex. Keep it business; keep it simple, she always believed.  
  
Smallville wouldn’t be the same with Tess Mercer in the picture.

* * *

The truth was something Tess learned to accept. There was no casting aside what it was for what she actually wanted. She had to learn how to adjust and survive, something that she had always done.  
  
In the old Luthor Castle, imported brick by brick from Scotland and rebuilt on Kansas firmament to show the legacy and strength of the Luthor dynasty, she found it ironic as she drank her Scotch, hold the poison, that she would be the last one standing.  
  
The unknown.  
  
The wildcard.  
  
Had turned out to the Luthor ace.  
  
She survived two sets of parents, two half brothers—Lucas, foolhardy cardsharp that he was tried to renege on his debt to the Edge City Triad and ended up with a bad case of bullet wounds and slit throat, and an aunt. She almost outlasted Lex; had it not been for his meteor-accelerated healing, then he would be dead, instead of burnt to a crisp and immobile.  
  
This sprawling mausoleum full of antiques and tomes housed bitter secrets, ghosts and nightmares for worst than anyone’s imagining. Yet, Tess knew that Lex was safe, hidden and cared for discretely as she had once been. She had no worries about anyone attacking her brother as he recuperated. She’d scoured the world for the best private home caretakers and security that money could buy.  
  
And Granny Goodness and company were worth every penny.  
  
No longer would the Smallville Scooby Gang interfere with her brother’s work. Lex might have always had a soft spot for Clark, even though their relationship had soured on the basis of mutual lies, distrust and jealousy; her fondness of Clark could be resolved with sating her curiosity in Lex’s chamber of Clark Kent and hard workout followed by a long hot shower.  
  
Between the combined efforts of Charity, Hope, Harriet and Lash, none of those pesky Level 33.1 or Belle Reve inmates would get within ten miles of Lex. Clark and Lois seemed to be something of another matter. Tess managed to keep them occupied at the Planet and Granny Goodness did the rest on the home front.  
  
Tess finished her scotch as the last flames died out, closed her computer and closed the office for the night. The space that had once been Lex’s precious domain was now the base for her LuthorCorp, Daily Planet, Checkmate, and Cadmus affairs.  
  
So she ascended the stairs of the west wing. Her footfalls echoed down the vacant and sheet covered hallways. Hope and Charity nodded to her as she approached and opened the door to master suite for her.  
  
The Lex swaddled in Egyptian cotton, bandages and ensnared by tubes was a far cry from the elegant young man, who had approached her years ago in an empty library. Lex was a man that lived on the edge of a slippery slope. For many, it was obvious that he’d been crushed by finally falling over the edge. But he was her brother. Her Alexander. The knight that rescued her from her lonely tour to bring into the land of the living.  
  
She owed so much to her Alexander and the person he became as Lex. Tess wouldn’t let him down.  
  
A book waited for her on the bedside table. It was the same book she read every night since she’d brought him home. Tess slipped off her shoes, kicked them under the wingback chair sitting next to t he bed, and finally spoke to her sleeping brother.  
  
“I guess we should pick up where we left off, Alexander.”  
  
She opened the book to the marker. It was one of his favorites and one that had come to mean so much to her as well. It was the story of a boy with dreams and the tenacity to have them all, and the little girl who followed him to a land far, far away.  
  
 _So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land._  
  
Tess finished the page as Alexander slept on, breathing the pressed air from tanks and tubes, and dreaming in time with digital beeps and whistles. Her lips bussed one of the few unmarred spots on his face, her nose lingering along his skin as she transmitted her hope from skin to skin that he might awaken soon. She gave him one gentler peck, a soft kiss like any good sister would.  
  
As she placed the book back on the table in preparation of the next night’s reading, she whispered a gentle command, “Sleep,” she said.  
  
To his reply of silence and monitor beeps, she said, “I’m here, brother. I’ll always be here.”  
  
Tess closed the door to Alexander’s room and prepared to sleep in her own. She would dream the dreams of one who carries empires and blood history on her back. Make no mistake, no nightmares were to come. This is what she had been prepared to do.  
  
Her only wish was for her Alexander to see what he had built.  
  
The End


End file.
